


Words

by missberryisbest



Series: ~Fluff for Maf~ [9]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, They bang, fluffy fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberryisbest/pseuds/missberryisbest
Summary: The car went through an underpass and Quentin knew he had about three minutes where the inside of the car would be exceptionally dark. He looked at El, and they both crossed the minimal amount of distance between them, kissing desperately, trying to taste and feel as much as possible while being silent enough that they couldn't be heard over the radio. Needing to make use of every second of darkness they were given.





	Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickassfu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassfu/gifts).



The car ride home was impossible. Quentin’s hand drifted to the middle of the seat in between them, and when Eliot either didn’t notice or pretended not to, to see what Q would do next, his hand traveled further over. Until it was resting on El’s thigh. Eliot took a shuddering breath in, and then reached his own hand over and ran his fingers lightly along Q’s jeans. Quentin bit off a whimper as Eliot then moved his hand away, but it was only to lock fingers with Q, gently tugging his hand off of Eliot’s slacks because they were  _ in the car _ and  _ people were right there _ . Everyone was silent, so Rebecca turned on the radio.

_ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me _ , Quentin thought to himself, as the music of Kings of Leon filled the car, crooning about Sex on Fire.

\--

_ Lay where you're laying _

_ Don't make a sound _

_ I know they're watching _

_ Watching _

\--

Eliot was having trouble staying on his side of the car. Only the knowledge that Rebecca and Monica may be in his life for a lot longer than he originally had thought kept him from crossing the seat and devouring Quentin whole.  _ Why, jesus fucking christ, why this song?  _ He asked himself.

\--

_ The dark of the alley _

_ The breaking of day _

_ Head while I'm driving _

_ I'm driving _

\--

The car went through an underpass and Quentin knew he had about three minutes where the inside of the car would be exceptionally dark. He looked at El, and they both crossed the minimal amount of distance between them, kissing desperately, trying to taste and feel as much as possible while being silent enough that they couldn't be heard over the radio. Needing to make use of every second of darkness they were given.

\--

_ Hot as a fever _

_ Rattle of bones _

_ I could just taste it _

_ Taste it _

\--

When they got back to the house Quentin got out of the car super fucking fast and when El lumbered up and out Q snuck a hand to the small of his back and started pushing him towards the door. Monica started to ask if they wanted to play charades, but Rebecca pulled her in for a lingering kiss and Quentin quickly moved a very agreeable Eliot towards their bedroom with a “Sorry, we’re just soooooo tired” thrown over his shoulder.

\--

_ Soft lips are open _

_ Them knuckles are pale _

_ Feels like you're dying _

_ You're dying _

\--

“Okay,” Quentin said when they got to the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. “Words.”

“Words?” Eliot asked, cocking an eyebrow and taking his shoes off while gesturing at Quentin to do the same.

Q shimmied out of his jacket and undid his belt. “Yes” he said, muffled from inside of his button-up, “we have to say words.” 

Eliot stopped Q cold with a kiss to the skin of his abdomen that was peeking out from underneath his shirt. “What kind of words?” He said, biting gently and making Quentin shiver.

“V...verbal con..consent is uh, necessary.” Quentin got out, as he tried to undo the buttons of Eliot’s shirt before impatiently just tugging it up and off of Eliot’s head. “And, ah, you know. Words.” Q gestured emphatically.

Eliot paused. “You’re right.” He said. He kissed Quentin on his adorable nose. “I promise I was getting there. I just didn’t know that’s what you meant by ‘words’.”He reached a hand out and caressed the side of Quentin’s face, landing his hand on Q’s neck, pulling the shorter man in close. 

“Quentin Makepeace Coldwater” Eliot said. “I want to get you entirely naked. I want to toss you back on this delightful bed. I want to give you head so good that every time someone gets close to your dick for the next year, no, the next  _ five years _ , you will compare it to this moment.” Eliot gently guided Quentin back towards the bed, as Q had started nodding yes emphatically at this point.

“I like that thought” Quentin said, “A lot. So that’s a yes from me.” Q closed the distance between them and kissing Eliot with everything he had in him. But Quentin whined, because Eliot pulled back.

“Oh no” Eliot said into Q’s ear, teasing slightly. “I have more words.” He bit Q’s neck and then kissed to make it better. “Then, when you are writhing under me, when I’ve used my mouth and my fingers to get you right to the brink of cumming” El pushed Q lightly, until Q was sprawled on the bed, before removing his own pants. “Then, I would like to flip you over and fuck you. Until you are arched back, biting the pillow and trying your hardest not to scream.”

Quentin swallowed around the lump in his throat. The sight of Eliot, aroused and mostly naked standing in front of him had momentarily robbed him of the ability to speak. “Yes.” Q said, nodding. “Yes please, we should do that. Right now.”

El smiled, and pounced.

\--

_ But it's not forever _

_ But it's just tonight _

_ Oh we're still the greatest _

_ The greatest _

\--

Much  _ much  _ later on in the evening they were sprawled out, wrapped up in each other. Quentin was tracing along Eliot’s chest, marveling at the fact that he was actually touching Eliot Waugh. That he had just been fucked by Eliot Waugh.

Satisfied, Quentin laughed softly.

Eliot sleepily lifted his head. “Hmm?” He asked, trying to hold back a yawn.

“You are really  _ really _ good at words.” Quentin said.

Eliot snorted, and tugged Quentin in close, wrapping a proprietary arm around him. “Why thank you,” he drawled, a callback to the night before. “I try.”


End file.
